


heaven lies in your wake

by mirabilis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Flirting, M/M, Swordfighting, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26967007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirabilis/pseuds/mirabilis
Summary: Pandora’s box has never looked so cracked and shattered in Rintarou’s hand, and there lies Miya Osamu, a secret only brandished in flicked gold and silver with hints of blood scorching his darker strands of hair that lightens in the sunlight, or moonlight when the moon puts aside her weeping to offer her services to a knight in need. A knight, a savior, a martyr to the king and Rintarou questions if he’s the one who’s been chained to his cursed castle.It’s maddening, knows that two can play at a game.   But luckily, Rintarou enjoys a good duel.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55
Collections: SunaOsa Week 2020





	heaven lies in your wake

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This idea came to me a few days ago... and would never leave.. AND IM VERY LATE I APOLOGIZE....
> 
> sunaosa day 1: free day! 
> 
> cw: minor violence, blood, drowning, mention of death, falling, daddy issues???

Rintarou enjoys plentiful things, storming out of dinners in the aftermath of his father’s fury as he throws his knife and fork to his plate and kicks back his chair and excites the dining hall. Now, it’s dramatic, yes, it serves a purpose when he wants to make a point, for instance when his father is roaring on and on about how he needs to find a proper consort and his mother sits in her golden, bridled made of guilty crowns and bones on the souls his father has conquered dabbing the corner of her mouth in silence. 

It also appears to come in handy when he needs an escape, any excuse to skip the not so family friendly meals resulting in his father, the crowned king in line after slaughtering his family before him and wears the cape like it’s pride when really it’s despicable how fate and the gods will seize him into dust in the end. He who wears the crown will succumb to the fate of the Suna bloodline, just you wait Rintarou thinks, karma will be the hilt of a sword to the endeavors you began to pile like a throne and who will be laughing then? 

Among other things Rintarou enjoys, aside from escaping awkward dinners, there’s wall climbing outside his room, tugging on the ivy tendrils building over the years for stability and looking outside, listening to moon cry about the recent kingdom his father conquered. The moon looks ghostly, like a fair maiden of the lake waters once surrounding the castle now dried up. If you wipe the moon’s tears away, will you reconstruct the fallen kingdoms rotting on the tip of your father’s sword? 

Not only does Rintarou enjoy swinging on the ivy outside his window, eating the fresh air but he also enjoys sneaking into the kitchen at midnight and stuffing cakes and tarts down his shirt and running fast, as his feet carry him a fairy floating in the air. And recently he’s taken up the latest hobby: cracking open Pandora's box of Miya Osamu, his father’s most trusted and well-respected knight to Suna Itsuki. 

Miya Osamu, broadened in the sheathed padded breastplate of metal and banished in silver, half cracked rapier by his side like a secret kissing his hip and only unsheathed when needed. For instance, when mercifully putting the traitors rotting away in his father’s dungeons to sleep. Or when interrogating enemies, strapped and bound as there’s the cruel ember of a demon entity alluding in his boring, grey eyes that suddenly make him a lot less boring. He could be handsome, Rintarou thinks when staring at from above as he does his nightly patrols around the courtyard, a routine Rintarou has memorized to avoid running into him. He is handsome, equally desired, but bears no ring or writes a letter to a maiden in his homeland. 

Pandora’s box has never looked so cracked and shattered in Rintarou’s hand, and there lies Miya Osamu, a secret only brandished in flicked gold and silver with hints of blood scorching his darker strands of hair that lightens in the sunlight, or moonlight when the moon puts aside her weeping to offer her services to a knight in need. A knight, a savior, a martyr to the king and Rintarou questions if he’s the one who’s been chained to his cursed castle.   
  


*

“Rintarou, play attention!” His instructor drags him away from thought, as he leans against his desk paying no homage to the huge map in front of his eyes and the history of Inarizaki, a story he’s been told a thousand times, enough that it’s been ingrained into his brain. Rintarou continues to ignore him as he looks out the window, looking down as a crowd of knights thunder through the castle grounds, ah, they must’ve returned from the mission his father sent on him. 

He rides a pale, ivory stallion gracefully into the gardens where his mother crouches over a bed of purple asters as he rises to greet Osamu. Osamu bows at her presence, and together they walk in the direction of the main entrance. Rintarou returns to the study room, blank with thousands of bookshelves, each read and caressed by his slender, growing hands through the ages like time and devotion, licking each page as he flipped through. “You think lightly of me, I’ve memorized this piece of text since my mother’s maids taught me how to walk on my two feet.” he says flippantly, as his instructor scrutinizes him through his spectacles. 

“This is no joking matter, you cannot be prince to the throne heritance if you cannot even pay attention to your studies.” 

Rintarou plays with the rose in the thin vase at the head of his cherry wood desk engraved in the family ensignia. Red, crushed in between his palm, like the bloodshed above the grounds of history he’s meant to be taught. His instructor most likely doesn’t even understand half of the story. “I’m getting exhausted, I believe this is enough for today.” he says, rising from his chair and sweeping his double-breasted maroon coat aside, was he who shed the blood of hundreds, no he insists he is not his father. 

His instructor simply sighs, he could not go against the word of the sole living prince in the whole kingdom. The maple wooden doors to the study where Rintarous is meant to spend all hours of the day studiously learning how to be the prince everyone wishes him to be suddenly open as he slips through. He orders the nearest handmaiden to draw him a bath as she scurrys away to warm the water. Rintarou undresses. Removing his white dress shirt, soiled from today’s equestrian lessons with the instructor in the stables as he’s called to be told that the bath was ready. He slips inside, as he becomes drowned in the warm water pooling through his fingers. Perhaps he could dissolve and become one the ocean, or sea riddled with myths and lores of alluring sirens weeping like the moon only more ruthless and feasting on the heart’s of sailors. 

He slowly begins to sink into the water with what wide space he had in the standing bath, and closes his eyes. Footsteps approach him and he bothers to not open an eye, perhaps it was the maid dropping a towel for when he was finished. “Prince Rintarou,” he hears from the ripple of the water as he emerges, raking a hasty hand through his hair as he looks up and proceeds to settle down against the rim of the bathtub. 

“Osamu, to whom do you owe me the pleasure of disturbing me during my bath?” He asks, as the knight stands rigid, sword hilted with precision by his side as he gazes at Rintarou without fear or modesty that the prince was head underwater and naked. 

Osamu’s flickering stone eyes harden and crack open like a glazed egg that the dragons protect in the darkest parts of the caves, seeking the ravishing thrill of treasure. “Yer father is unhappy by today’s studies, you should be less stubborn and more--” to which Rintarou cuts him off. 

“More prince-like?” 

Osamu shifts, almost uncomfortable and the shell crumbles that structures his well-natured and narrow jaw that becomes taunt under the starlight and reflection of Rintarou’s bath which was getting cold as he calls the maid to attend to him. “Now, that’s unfair,” he carefully replies, like bear traps placed along the roof of his tongue he knows better than to anger Rintarou. 

“Sometimes,” as he rises, stark naked and faces Osamu who shamelessly trains his eye to Rintarou and the maid rushes to cover him with the robe. “Our words are used against us, and before we know it, there’s a slain kingdom hithering to kiss one’s feet.” and he gently reaches over Osamu’s chin, curling around his jaw, soft to touch. “Do not test me, even if you are my father’s most trusted knight.” 

Osamu breaks the stare first, as he steps back and offers a stiff bow. “Understood, my prince. I shall leave you be for the rest of the night.” as the doors close, and Rintarou winces at the impact, he feels hot and heavy like he’s melting under a cauldron. And he catches the poor maid off guard when he chuckles to himself, Miya Osamu was far more interesting then he thought him to be.

*

He sees Osamu again, when he’s wandering the castle grounds, scoping the hidden chambers he’s never been able to count all ten fingers and ten toes. But there’s this joy of roaming the hallways, red carpet grazing his laced up knee high boots, once stained with dirt and grime from yesterday’s outdoor lessons that he still hasn’t given to the shoeshiner. Rintarou kicks off with the heel of his boot, forgetting him soon after. He seems him everywhere which is highly unfortunate, as he’s constantly making rounds around the castle grounds, speaking to the queen, or in the king’s weaponry chamber where Rintarou has only been allowed to enter once in his life and that was accidental. 

Rintarou quickly learned his lesson never to wander too far. 

Osamu speaks with another knight, Aran if he remembers correctly as they ride their horses into the gates quarters near the stables and Rintarou never stops to watch him swiftly jump off the stallion. He wonders, where did those years of training come from, where did the sure-footed elegance of a court dancer bow his legs or course through his veins when he fought. He was like the roses that the queen tidied in the court gardens, fair price and stunning but there’s a gnarly cord snaking around his neck as a thorn pricks a finger and there’s a fairytale to be told in their future. 

“Miya Osamu,” he begins later that day as he steps-sides an overly eager jab to the chest and Komori repositions. “What can you tell me about him?” 

Komori tries again, this time aiming for his shoulder with the point of his Sabre. “Well, Rin, he’s a knight.” and Rintarou rolls his eyes, that was a given and Komori was obviously playing coy, a game he memorized with the back of his hand. “And he’s been a knight in training ever since you were a child, rumors linger around the castle that his twin brother hails from a neighboring kingdom, the only one standing from your father’s terror.” 

Rintarou balanced against his Epee delicately as he leaned against it, wiping the sweat from his forehead as light from the training room peeks and tantalizes his skin uncovered from the double-breasted tunic he wears rolled up to his elbows. “Is that so, is the brother as handsome?”

Komori rolls his eyes, waving a hand at the stuffy air as he replies, “you find Miya Osamu handsome? Interesting.” 

And he breaks from resting against his thin weapon and whips a quick strike at Komori who merely escapes the pointed blade as he steps back. “It’s a surprise he hasn’t been swept away from the king with a consort by his side.” Rintarou says, smirking as he flips his Epee in full circle and lunges. 

“Is the prince jealous?” 

“You mistaken me Motoya for a fool,” he grins, tapping at the edge of Komori’s thigh with his Epee, once clean slash and he would be dead in less than a minute. 

Komori grunts, as Rintarou releases the grip of his handle. “I despise you.” 

Rintarou grins wickedly, it wouldn't be the first hearing that, as he sees Osamu’s silhouette disappear from behind the door and he thinks, shit, was he watching him? Rintarou stands up, gathering his weapon as he calls for the closest servant. Let him watch. He can enjoy the show. 

*

He has the major inconvenience of greeting Osamu in the most unfortunate time, when it’s after dark and the guards outside his door have switched shifts and there’s the sliver of a minute where Rintarou can escape. Believe him, when he says that he has no intention in running into Osamu as he swung from midway from the wall of ivy. He actually calculated when Osamu wouldn’t be on tonight’s courtyard patrol, but apparently he had miscalculated. 

Osamu raises his sword (golden crested with the kingdom's ensignia, similar to the breasted plate he wore when he was around the king). “Now, what the fuck is going on?” He growls. 

Rintarou huffs a dismissive laugh, hooking his legs around the coiled ivy, tickling at his loose trousers. “What does it look like, I’m a damsel in distress awaiting for a handsome knight to save me,” and squints down below which is over ten feet of catching air, waiting for him to plummet to death. “Have you seen one?” 

“Don’t play with me Prince Rintarou, this is dangerous. The last thing we need is a splattered prince in the gardens for yer mother to wake up to when she tends to her perennials.” Osamu says, crossing his arms. Rintarou dangles, grappling the stone walls. 

“I think I would make lovely decor, to be sticking to the castle grounds don’t you think so.” 

He can see the delicious grint of his teeth as Osamu grows furious, attempting to keep his voice down to prevent waking up the whole castle. “Do not joke,” 

Rintarou’s foot gathers the root of a loose tendril as he slips and mutters a short, “fuck.” Maybe Osamu was right. Being nothing more than pretty decor and flattened out like the rosy, melting-in-your-mouth creamy baked goods left by his dresser after a long day of studies. Expanding his arms out, if he’s lucky he might stumble his body through the greens before he hits concrete. 

But surprisingly, he doesn’t. May fate was acting too kind and merciful these days, or looking out for him. A pity. He blinks his eyes open, to realize that was not a flattened stamp to the courtyard but in Osamu’s arms as he stares above him, ugly and beautiful coal grey eyes dance like a shrine, impending doom. “Should’ve let you drop dammit,” Osamu grins, which startles Rintarou. 

“Be a gentleman and let me fall next time.” 

“Now that would be foolish.” 

“Even more foolish than hanging outside your window with nothing but ivy holding you up?” 

He realizes that Osamu’s arms are warm, and almost comforting as he helps him up. “Shall I accompany you to yer room, like a true gentleman?” 

“I think I’ll be fine,” 

“Goodnight your highness.” and Rintarou thinks, maybe cruel embers can eventually grow into beautiful, bursting stars. 

*

The days go by, Rintarou is forced into his studies like an obedient son he was raised to be. He occasionally finds Osamu roaming the halls, speaking quietly with his father, standing at his side by the throne where he belongs. Next to his father. It's impossible to be any other way or could it? 

If he was forced underwater, buried in the sins of his father, then maybe he could be the one, perched on the throne. But you don't become buried by the burden of bones, new and old, not yet. Rintarou heeds at the cowling ecstasy that harbors at his fingers when he wields his sword, is that how his father, the king feels when he slays innocence. 

Disgusted, Rintarou drops his weapon and draws himself a cold bath. He sits there, for hours, knees under his chin combing his wet strands messy and tucked around his ear. Sitting there for hours, contemplating justice and forthcoming bravery that Osamu wears like a badge of honor. 

“Your highness, you’ll catch a cold!” A maid shrimps when she finds him, shaken in the bathtub. He doesn’t mind, if there is no deprivation like heroics. Then maybe he can suffer like the rest of the crushed earth he sits above. 

*

Oh. Did something startle you?

Have you changed?

*

With permission of his father, Rintarou is accompanied by Osamu to let free for the rest of the afternoon leisurely bathing in the gardens of the courtyard. He’s forced to pour through his readings, which is inevitable as he heaves the thick binded books through the gardens, tenderly grazing the petunias growing steadily. 

He gets bored quickly, too quickly. He finishes the first book within the hour, and shuts it close. “Osamu.” He tries. And Osamu cranes his neck, sunlight harsh on his eyelids in the most unexpected way. 

“What is it now, your highness?”

“Tell me a story.” 

Osamu chuckles quietly, clearly taken back by his request. “You just be jokin’” 

And Rintarou grins, stretching his arms, removing his heavy coat and feeling the grass between his fingers. It felt nice, a bit out of place but refreshing. “Do I need to ask twice?” 

He can tell Osamu attempts to suppress an eye roll, as he flips around a dagger idly before twirling it into the grass a foot away from Rintarou with precision. “There’s a story, once that was told to me when I was younger about a lost lover during the war. He fell in love with the king’s only, sole surviving daughter, but he was nothing but a mere merchant.” 

Rintarou lays across the courtyard, knees knocking together as he rests his palm against cheeks, listening. “I can only imagine what happens next.” 

“His love was so strong for the princess that every night he would sing a ballad for the lover that he would never be able to get. And one night, he was caught by the palace guards and the next day sentenced to death.” Osamu’s voice carries with the wind, like an anthem of the flute. 

“What happened to the princess?” 

“She grew lonely, stricken with sickness after the loss of a lover who truly she never loved until he was killed. And so every night, she sits outside her window and sings to the moon, in prayer that she may be able to hear the voice of the boy she fell in love with.” 

Rintarou sighs, “what nightmares were you plagued with as a child.” He mumbles in a half-joking manner. 

Osamu stands, reaching for his knife half dug in the grass. “That my prince, is another story for another time.” 

“Spare me the joy of having to listen to your poor storytelling and tell me, is there a happy ending?”’ 

A clutch to his sword, Rintarou notices, he does it often perhaps as a sanction, a reminder of his future. Who knows. “Prince Rintarou, I’m afraid that not all stories have such happy endings.” Osamu says, distant like he’s sunk into a memory and can’t escape.   
  


*

Komori joins him again, which isn’t terrible, his childhood friend wasn’t a terrible partner except by now, they’ve memorized each other’s patterns, weak spots. The weapons room is empty when he arrives, as he reaches for his Epee reserved for him and him only as Komori handles his Sabre with care. “So, Miya Osamu.” Komori begins. 

Rintarou knocks up a playful smile, “using my own words against me now?”

“Get over it.” 

He feels the thumb pad skid over his knuckles, as he familiarizes himself with the Epee. It was given to him when he was a child, too young to be wielding a sword. But that did not matter to the king, in fact even starting from Rintarou’s ability to read seven different languages and master riding the dark stallions in their stables, his father would never be pleased. 

There’s another set of footsteps, as he almost recognizes them and Komori shoves an elbow at his arm to gain his attention. Osamu enters, wearing a pair of plain brown trousers, a collarless white tunic gliding down his collarbones, he looks, well— human. To put in simpler terms. Rintarou did not say that he didn’t look handsome even without being embedded in the crest of Inazarki proudly, like being nailed to a post, crucified in raging greed. He does not support his sword which is always saddled to his lip, where he appears almost naked without out. 

“Ah, Miya.” The name feels foreign. Like metallic, scorching blood sizzling at his tongue without warning. “Are you here to join us?”

Osamu centers around the floor, one foot at a time, inspecting Rintarou almost. “If you wouldn’t mind, yer highness.” And he bows, a gentle wink graces his cheekbones and Rintarou should feel enraged, but he doesn’t. “I hear you’ve become quite the swordsmen. I would like to see if the rumors are true.” 

Rintarou smirks, cuffing at his boots in repetition. Osamu was playing a game, or more like it was playing at this game. He liked this side of Osamu, more alluring and provocative, easy to provoke. “A duel or two wouldn’t hurt.” He says, as Osamu smiles, finding the swords used by the trainees daily. He picks one, an Estoc, engraved in brown patterns, simplistic. 

He readies as Osamu follows, training onto Rintarou’s forehead almost, in pure concentration as he lunges, quick and dirty. He almost flies backs but that wouldn’t be very princely of him would it now? He regains his momentum, and moves back, as he seizes the moment to stab him at the leg, an easy target but Osamu blocks him with the upper end of his sword. 

“Your highness, you appear to not be as terrible as I thought you might be.” Osamu announces, rolling into a leaping somersault in an attempt to catch Rintarou to his knees, but he’s seen that move before, hell his father teaches that move to every knight in the kingdom including Rintarou. 

This was going to far more eventful then he could ever imagine. 

*  


Moving out of the way, he lunges again, fixating on the chest as he double slashes and Osamu blocks them fluidly. Like this was nothing. He also seems to be enjoying this too much. “You should be careful.” He smiles slyly, hitting him with twice the time impact as he cuts low, going for the ankles. But Osamu knows better to fall for that, and uses the pummel of his sword to jab at him to which he loses a bit of balance. 

There’s this cutting ache he finds in his bones when he attacks, like Osamu can read his moves. And it’s exhilarating, he’s never dueled anyone like him. Finally, he gains the upper hand, as he sweeping at his knees as Osamu falls to his knees and his Estoc sword in Rintarou’s hands. There’s a lovely expression that’s like a painting, or widespread like a mural in the markets, abstract and wild but exquisite. And you think, as he tip his chin with the hilt of your sword, maybe Miya Osamu could be beautiful. “Do you surrender?”’

And there’s a cocky, blasphemous laughter that erupts like an earthquake from Osamu, as the knight shakes not in fear, but as crystallization takes its final final form in his eyes. Smoky grey like evaporation after an evening pour, stomping in the rain, maybe that day, that illusion a kiss may strike the hour twelve. 

“Careful.” Osamu whispers, and he knows there’s eyes on him, his father is probably watching. The show must go on. And in the blink of an eye, his sword is no longer in his hand as he’s lying flat across his back, a knee pressed against his throat and two swords like mismatches fury rests against his stomach. 

Oh. He lost. 

Rintarou stares, as Osamu does not loosen his grip. He can taste the blood in his mouth, like a reminder. 

*

Suna Rintarou will not admit defeat, there is the future to claim victory over. There is the masquerade ball, kingdoms, Miya Osamu. The crown prince, heir to the throne of Suna Itsuki, father like son is dismayed by loss. 

You cannot fortify justice, and so you build it instead with your own hands, and so that’s what he shall do. A prince, who will on day grow into a monster, and succumb to fate. Will a loyal knight remain by his side for the years to perish. 

Rintarou is unsure, as his future has not been set in stone, and he thinks, as he finds Miya Osamu in the courtyards as misery unleashes, and he sits by the window and perhaps the moon will cry her song once more, in honor of Rintarou. Catch me, he asks. Catch me before I fall?

Suna Rintarou, the crown prince of Inarizaki may never find peace. It’s the demons inside us, that keep us alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! If you enjoyed this fic!! Which may or may not have a longer sequel prequel lol... pls feel free to drop a comment or kudos!! Those rlly make my day, and esp this is my first time writing these two.. still adjusting to their characterization!! 
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/atsuhinass__) to chat w me and talk sunaosa!!


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